||In Bertha's own words:
I have a house cat, Mollie, that became my best friend when I was so depressed I couldn't see a tomorrow. When Johnnie was 2, he and I were strolling outside in my back yard. I had just had major back surgery and was just starting to get about some.
We heard this tiny mew. Johnnie saw her first and rushed to pick her up. She barely had her eyes open. Knowing full well that I couldn't care for her, I took her to my mother-in-law. Mom is in her eighties and lives alone. We suspected that someone had thrown the precious kitten out. We lived next to a park at that time and was always getting strays that were abandoned. Molly thrived at the hands of this woman.
When she started getting out of her box, Mom told us she was afraid she would step on her. I had always wanted a house cat but my husband is no cat person. He simply would not let me have one.
One day in particular, I was so depressed that I didn't care if the world stopped. I couldn't do anything but sit in my recliner and look out the window. I didn't think
the day would ever come that I would be able to once again be normal.
That was four years ago. She has never been outside. She goes to the door but refuses to go outside. I think she has a fear of going out that door. Anyway, she is otherwise a very normal cat and gives both Robert and me lots of love and company. And by the way, my husband is so crazy about her. She loves to sit in his lap and let him rub her shoulders.
She lets us know when it's time to get out of bed and I allow her one can of Fancy Feast at supper. She let's me know exactly when that can is suppose to be opened and in her bowl. We love her so much.